by Emma Lyon
“This is Zach….” To my horror, I realized I didn’t know Zach’s last name.
“Zach Pearson,” Zach supplied smoothly, shaking hands with a smile at just the right wattage to charm.
“Zach, this is Frank and Abby Cook. Frank heads the local Chamber of Commerce.”
“Ah,” Zach said. He put his hand on the small of my back, and the rub of his thumb through my suit sent a shiver through me. “Nice to meet you.”
Abby, who was an attractive, middle-aged woman in a stunning cream sequined dress, took the opportunity to derail her husband, who looked prepared to launch back into his spiel. “What do you do, Zach?”
“Going into my third year of law school at Georgetown.”
She looked suitably impressed. “Is that how you met? You’re at Georgetown, aren’t you, Lane?”
Uncomfortable at the deception, even though this was exactly the reason I’d hired Zach, I said, “Actually, the sister of a friend introduced us. But yes, I’m a graduate student there.”
“Your mother must be so proud. Will she be here tonight?”
“She’s with my father, who’s speaking at Johns Hopkins tonight. They both send their regrets.”
A server came by with a tray of drinks, and Zach accepted a glass of white wine.
“Not sure why your father’s bothering to campaign,” Frank said in his booming voice. “He’s a shoo-in in this state.”
“Let’s hope so,” I said, with a smile that felt entirely too practiced. I really did hate these things. Movement by the buffet cabinets against the far wall caught my eye. “It looks like the servers are setting out appetizers.”
As I’d hoped, Frank’s eyes zeroed in on them. “Thank God. I’m starved. Lane, let your father know what we talked about. Can’t let him forget about the small businessman, right?”
If Frank had his way, I was sure my father wouldn’t have the opportunity to forget. Abby was a little more gracious. “Lane, it was lovely to meet you.” She took Zach’s hand and patted the back of it. “And Zach, you too. Good luck with school, both of you.” She smiled at us then followed her husband, who was already halfway to the buffet.
“Saved by the canapés,” Zach said lightly, once they were out of earshot.
I groaned. “Only two more hours of this.”
Zach sipped his wine. Light reflected from the brim of his glass and pulled out the green in his hazel eyes. His hand had fallen from my back, but I barely had enough time to miss it before he moved to the empty space on the other side of me to lean against the wall there, arms almost touching in what must look to outsiders like an intimate tête-á-tête.
It certainly felt intimate. My pulse jumped when the back of his hand brushed my arm when he lowered his glass.
“You seem to be holding up all right,” Zach said, cocking his head and looking me over in a way that had my stomach fluttering. I had no idea how he managed to look so sexy just leaning against a wall.
“Better now with some company.” I sipped my wine, which was only slightly tepid. “Thanks again for coming.”
“Sure.” Zach looked around us. “I’ve been to the restaurant here before, but never the private dining room. Pretty sweet setup.”
“And only twenty-five hundred dollars a plate.”
“Seriously?” His eyebrows shot up. “You win as far as my most expensive date, then. You really know how to wine and dine your way to a guy’s heart.”
“Or his wallet?” I said, wondering if I imagined the flicker of something in his expression before it was smoothed away.
“Or that,” Zach said. His pose was still casual, one hand holding his wine glass and the other in his pocket, but I sensed an underlying tension.
“Is everything all right?”
He cocked his head at me. “Sure. Actually, I had some good news a few days ago. My older sister’s pregnant.”
I was surprised, and pleased, that he’d confided something like that to me. “That’s great. So, you’re going to be an uncle.”
“Seems like.” Zach shook his head. “I have no idea how that’s going to go.”
“Good, I bet. You seem like you’d be good with kids.”
“Really? I had a lot of younger cousins growing up, and all they did was annoy me.”
“Trust me, growing up with a younger brother, I swore I’d never have kids.”
He gave me a speculative look. “Maybe you need to find the right lucky guy first.”
Caught in those eyes, I didn’t have a ready response for him. I sipped my wine to keep my mouth occupied so I wouldn’t do something embarrassing, like kiss him again. “You know all about my dating history, but I don’t think we ever established yours.”
Zach eyed me with a gleam that said he saw right through me. “It’s not that exciting.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Somehow I doubt that.”
He grinned. “Well, you asked for it. I’ve had exactly one serious relationship, with a guy I met in college. After we’d graduated and I was applying to law schools outside the city, it turned out he wasn’t willing to leave New York or try it long distance. At the time he accused me of applying to school here because I wanted us to break up.”
“Did you?”
He considered that. “Maybe? I guess the fact that I was willing to move anyway meant I wasn’t serious about him in the first place. Though at the time I assumed he’d either move down here with me or wait, which taught me never to assume in relationships. Since then, I haven’t had much time to date.”
“Except professionally.”
He grinned. “Yeah, that. How am I doing so far?”
“Five stars all the way.”
Our eyes met, and the look he leveled at me, like he wanted to unwrap me piece by piece, starting with pants that were suddenly too tight, made my heart flutter and dick ache.
He really was insanely handsome. Probably not someone who would have looked at me twice if it hadn’t been for this arrangement, but it didn’t stop me from enjoying the benefits of it now. It was a surprise, actually, how quickly Zach’s presence had managed to flip the night from excruciating to pleasurable.
A commotion by the door grabbed my attention. Two new guests had arrived, and when the crowd parted enough for me to see them, my stomach sank.
“Lane?” Zach straightened from where he’d been leaning against the wall. “Is everything all right?” He followed the direction of my gaze. “Who is that?”
I said, through a haze of shock, “My parents.”
10
Zach
I didn’t think it was possible for someone to go so stiff and so pale. Lane said slowly, “Jeff said there was a possibility they could make it after dinner, but I thought by then….”
My stomach dipped at the direction this was going. “Do you want me to go?”
“No,” Lane said immediately, to my relief. The thought of scurrying out like some secret mistress had squeezed my chest unpleasantly.
Lane hadn’t moved to greet his parents yet, so I took the opportunity to look them over. His mother was slim and pretty, with red hair pulled back in an elegant chignon, and aside from her hair, it was clear she was where Lane had gotten his genes. The similarity between them was startling.
His father was the one with Lane’s blond hair, though most of it had gone to gray. He was tall, with the kind of presence I associated with men comfortable with power. Not handsome in the traditional sense, but certainly striking. I had no trouble believing he’d done well in politics—he had the kind of face that looked both commanding and trustworthy. Which had nothing to do with whether he was actually either, but then looks rarely did.
Lane’s mother noticed us then, and a smile spread over her face as Lane raised his wine glass weakly in greeting. She turned to say something to her husband, her hand on his arm in an affectionate gesture that seemed genuine, then came over to us. The crowd moved aside for her, more interested in the soon-to-be-senator than his wife.
�
��Lane, honey,” she said when she arrived and Lane had leaned down to kiss her cheek. Tension rolled off him in waves. “Jeff said you would be here.”
“I thought Dad’s speech was going to conflict.”
“It was, but the school was able to move it up an hour, and traffic to get here was better than expected.” She glanced at me, not bothering to hide her curiosity.
“Mom, this is Zach Pearson,” Lane said.
I took the hand his mom held out. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Garrett.”
“Please, call me Jessica,” she said, with a smile that reminded me strongly of her son’s. “Are you here with Lane?”
I hesitated, not sure how Lane wanted to handle this—he obviously hadn’t wanted to introduce me to his parents, but we were a little beyond that now.
But Lane said, without any apparent reluctance, “Yes, Zach’s here with me.”
His mother looked more pleased by that than seemed warranted. “Lovely.” She took my hand again. “I think they’re seating us for dinner now. I want to make sure you’re sitting next to me.”
“Mom—” Lane broke in, but his mother ignored him. I let her lead me to the long dining table where guests were indeed being seated, throwing a glance back to Lane with a shrug to say, What can I do?
Lane looked grim, but he followed us and took the chair on the other side of me.
To my surprise, Lane’s mom had picked seats near the middle of the table, away from her husband at the head. But since it soon became apparent that Congressman Garrett’s attention would be monopolized by those lucky to have a seat near him, I figured she hadn’t wanted to get caught in the crossfire.
“Lane never tells me anything about his personal life,” she said, as the remaining guests found their seats. “How long have you been seeing each other?”
I glanced back at Lane, who had flagged down a server for another drink. He raised his eyebrow at me as if to say, Go on. I figured that was tacit permission to tell as much of the truth that was somewhat the truth.
“Just a few weeks. Our first date was to a wedding, actually.”
“Really?” Both her eyebrows shot up, and she leaned around me. “Honey, you didn’t tell me you took Zach to Bryce’s wedding.”
Lane took a long drink from his tumbler—he’d apparently opted for something stronger than wine—and said, “I guess it slipped my mind.”
Jessica shook her head fondly. “Are you as close-mouthed with your mother, Zach?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, and Jessica laughed.
“That’s the problem with boys.” A server appeared between us to lay down the first course. “Do you have any siblings?”
“Two sisters,” I replied.
“I always wanted a girl,” she said wistfully, “but after two boys I had my hands full.”
The guest on her other side said something about girls, and Jessica pulled her attention from me to respond. I took the opportunity to check in on Lane. “All right?”
“Sure,” Lane said, looking anything but as he drained what was left in his tumbler.
I leaned over and put my hand on Lane’s leg—for appearance’s sake, I told myself—and murmured, “I love your mom.”
Lane’s lips curved in a slight smile. He didn’t move his leg away. “She is pretty great,” he allowed.
“Then what are you nervous about?”
“I’m not nervous.” He lowered his voice. “I just don’t like lying to her.”
I nodded slowly, understanding Lane’s reluctance. “Look, I’m not going to say anything that isn’t true. If she draws her own conclusions….”
Lane nodded, though he didn’t look happy about it. But by the time the next course had arrived, he’d relaxed enough that he didn’t look like he expected a bomb to go off any second.
Lane’s mom was pretty great, and a good dinner conversationalist, too. By the time we got to dessert, I’d given her the summary rundown of my life.
“Your family must miss you, with you all the way down here.”
“Sure, but it’s an easy train ride, so I go home for holidays and breaks.”
“I was so glad when Lane picked a local school.” She finished the last of what was in her wine glass. “Ethan’s the one who went north. He’s home for the summer now, but I don’t get to see him as often as Lane.”
She was interrupted by the ring of her husband’s fork on his water glass as he stood to thank everyone for coming and contributing to his campaign. The speech was nothing spectacular, but he was a good speaker, and the mood of the room was warm enough that he received a rather long round of applause for it.
That seemed to be the signal for many of the guests to leave. Lane murmured in my ear, “Do you want to get out of here?”
“Sure,” I said, knowing that Lane most definitely did. I turned to his mom. “Jessica, it was a delight to meet you.”
“You are a charmer,” she said, but with a smile to show she was teasing. “It was delightful to meet you as well. Oh! Will you be going with us to the bay for the Fourth?” She turned to her son. “Lane, you did invite him, right?”
Next to me, Lane froze. “Mom, I don’t think—”
“Nonsense,” she said firmly. “Zach, I hope you can make it. You’re more than welcome.”
I felt the laser burn of Lane’s eyes on me before following him out of the room, down the elevator, and to the muggy heat outside the hotel.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Lane said, running a hand through his hair and clearly frazzled.
“For what?” I put my hands in my pockets as sweat began to trickle down my back even though it had to be past ten. “It was fun. Your mom is great.”
Lane bit his lip. “She is. She just worries unnecessarily. And I didn’t expect her to, you know…it’s just this family tradition, that we all go to the bay house for the Fourth.”
Before I stopped to think about what I was saying, the words tumbled out of my mouth. “I’m happy to go if it will make things easier for you with her.”
Lane froze and stared at me. “Why?”
Good question. I wondered what, exactly, I was doing. “Hey, you said bay house. I bet there’s even a pool.”
Lane said slowly, “There is, indeed, a pool.” He looked like he was trying to figure out what I was about, which made two of us. I had work, both at the bar and for Max—though I didn’t have any clients lined up, and I could always get someone to take my shift those nights…. “I can’t possibly ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Look, what will happen if I don’t go?”
“She’ll be disappointed,” Lane admitted. “She’ll assume we’ve broken up.”
“See? I know you don’t like lying to her, but is it worse than having her worry about you?”
I knew my reasoning was highly suspect, and I wasn’t sure why I was trying to rationalize it in the first place. I couldn’t be that smitten with Lane that I’d offer to continue being his fake boyfriend for an entire weekend, could I?
Lane looked like he was actually considering it. “I’d pay you, of course.”
I hadn’t offered with the expectation of payment. An unpleasant sensation burrowed in my gut. “You don’t have to.”
“I insist.” Lane looked firm on that point. He eyed me a long moment. “You’re sure you really want to do this?”
I shrugged. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a real vacation. It’ll be fun.” Because fun was apparently being driven insane by the hot, unavailable guy all weekend. Because apparently I was a masochist. “Besides, what’s the worst that can happen?”
11
Lane
I glanced at Zach in the passenger seat of the rental SUV, his ankle crossed over his knee and hazel eyes shielded by black sunglasses, and thought for the hundredth time that this was a really bad idea.
Zach looked good. Then again, Zach always looked good. He’d gone for shorts and a faded red t-shirt that hugged his chest and biceps nicely
, and I could barely keep my eyes off him and on the road.
If I was being honest with myself, I hadn’t said yes to Zach’s crazy idea because I wanted to keep my mom from worrying about me. I’d said yes because part of me wanted to pretend this could actually be real.
Which was why it was a terrible idea.
Zach had turned the radio to something indie and rock, and the low sounds were enough to fill the car in lieu of conversation while I navigated out of the city. It would take a couple of hours to get to the house, probably longer with traffic, and I braced myself for the torment of being half-hard the entire way.
Once we were on the highway, Zach twisted to reach behind him for his bag on the back seat, and came back brandishing a magazine. “I thought we could brush up on our boyfriend skills on the drive. You know, find out more about each other and work out the kinks?”
I caught the hot pink Cosmopolitan on the cover. “No. No way.”
Zach grinned at my consternation. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” He flipped the magazine open and folded the pages behind it. He’d grabbed a pen, too, and I tried to keep my attention in front of me and not on the end of it tapping his bottom lip. “Let’s see. ‘How Well Do You Know Your Partner.’” He glanced at me and wagged his eyebrows above his glasses as I rolled my eyes.
“You’re not serious.”
“Hey, who knows what kinds of questions we’ll get this weekend. We need to be prepared.” He cleared his throat. “Question one. Who was the first person you ever kissed?”
“Is that really the first question?”
“Swear to God,” Zach affirmed, and put his hand on his heart.
I was still suspicious, but figured it was a safe enough topic. I shifted in the driver’s seat. “Billy Shire. Eight years old, at a birthday party. One of the parents freaked out and called my mom, who came to the party and lectured all of them about homophobia and sending negative feedback to children for expressing affection. Of course, when we got home, I got a lecture that eight was too young to be kissing other kids.”